Heartache
by Kyraillion
Summary: Roy grieves for Edward Elric in his own way... RoyXEd


**Heartache**

Sex with Roy was never gentle. Certainly the man was both courteous and gentile, but there was definitely no slow going with the Lieutenant Colonel, at least not on the first go around. Mira knew that before she even picked up the phone. Roy was upset. He only called her when he was angry or in a funk over something he couldn't control. He never said as much, but then again men tended to expose more than just skin when they stripped down for her. Yes, Mira could tell simply from Roy's tone over the wire. There would be no easy ride tonight.

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Roy sat in his favorite velvet covered chair. It was the only chair with a view of the door and he wanted to see Mira the moment she arrived. The woman was no exceptional beauty, but she was calming, and a calming presence, along with a good fuck, were just what he needed.

The now former Lieutenant Colonel reached across his face and adjusted his eye patch. Today was his first day out of the hospital and he was still getting used to all the changes. He knew he wasn't yet in the physical condition to go for a feisty roll in the sheets, but it was his soul that ached worse than his body and he only prayed this would relieve some of the angst and pain that threatened to overwhelm him.

He wondered how Mira would react to the eye patch. The woman was smart enough that Roy knew she would not dismiss it as some kinky costume. He hoped she wouldn't mention it. It only reminded him of his failure.

A knock sounded at the door.

Roy carefully unwound himself from the chair and stood slowly, careful not to jostle his bruised ribs. He traveled toward the door at a steady, measured pace, trying his best not to let the sounds of his limp become too pronounced. Mira wouldn't even bother crossing the threshold if she knew the condition Roy's body was really in.

He grasped the cold brass of the door knob and tugged. It had taken every ounce of his self-discipline to force himself to remove his gloves for this. Still, seeing Mira's petite form on his doorstep made him feel a measure of safety once more.

"Aren't you going to let me in," Mira teased, her light brown eyes glowing softly and her mouth parted in a slight grin. Her jovial expression changed, however, when she noticed Roy's new facial accessory. She swallowed hard and smiled up at him once more.

Roy pretended not to notice. Instead, he extended a hand and guided the woman up the two steps and into his small apartment. Her hand was as soft was flower petals against his rough skin. Roy marveled at the slightest of sensations open to him without the harsh fabric of his gloves.

He led her inside quietly. He could no longer trust his own voice to remain strong. If he faltered now, she would still leave. But oh, how that lovely blonde hair caught in the light! Roy found it difficult to repress his sigh.

She stepped gracefully into his living room, releasing Roy's hand and draping the shawl of her tight red dress over the arm of Roy's favorite chair.

Roy smiled. Red. Yes, red was a wonderful color.

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Calloused fingers lightly traced the dimples in her back. Her lips parted and Roy's tongue rushed eagerly to fill the space. A hand brushed tenderly through her hair and ever-so-softly, he whispered into her ear. The rhythm, the sighs, the touches, everything about Roy seemed so fluid this night. Never before had the Leutenant Colonel been so expressive and attentive. It was as if he was afraid he might break her. Mira nipped gently at Roy's collarbone, reveling as he shivered against her, pulling her body even closer onto his and groaning a name softly as he did.

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Roy lay on his back, gazing somewhere past the white stucco of his ceiling. Mira lay beside him, but for some reason she did not snuggle as close to him as she usually did. It didn't matter. Roy was in too much pain to feel the effects of any space between them.

"Roy," Mira whispered, turning on her side to face him. "You've never been that gentle with me before."

He hummed noncommittally, refusing to look at her. Her eyes were the wrong color. He didn't want to see them now. If he allowed himself to look at her, he just might break. Roy was a man of fire and passion. If he looked into those chocolate orbs now, the floodgates would break and the tears would overwhelm him.

Finally she moved closer and rested her chin against his chest, carefully avoiding the tender area near his stiches.

"You've had a rough time of it lately."

It wasn't a question.

He knew Mira could feel him trembling beside her. He warmth against his made him melt. It was no use. He was broken inside. How could he hold it together?

"I… I lost a man today," he sighed up toward the ceiling.

She didn't force him to look at her, though Roy could tell she wanted him too. She lightly fingered the stitches and scar on his chest . "It looks as though you nearly lost yourself…"

Roy could hear the worry in her voice. After nearly two years of escapades with this woman, some things no longer needed to be spoken. "That would have been preferable," he whispered hoarsely.

Eyelashes batted against the skin of his chest and warm tears followed. Mira gripped at the sheets with one hand before whispering into Roy's side. "Was his name, Edward?"

A sound not dissimilar to both a cough and a sob tore its way from Roy's throat. He inhaled in short, rigid gasps as if his body had suddenly forgotten how to breathe.

Mira helped raise him into a sitting position and rubbed her hand across Roy's back, providing a steady rhythm for his breaths to match.

"How, how did you know?" Roy fumbled for the words as soon as he was able. Hawkeye had only informed him of Edward's disappearance today. Tears had flown freely down her cheeks as she told him that Armstrong had searched every last stone and pebble of the rubble for the young man.

That news alone had wounded Roy more than any physical wound he had yet sustained.

As Roy waited on Mira's reply, he shifted his weight to soothe his bruised ribs. He felt broken all over and immeasurably old.

Mira took his hand and with a squeeze of reassurance, asked him to look at her.

Roy obliged, no longer caring how terrible he must appear to her. He sighed deeply and stared past her, into her tousled, golden hair.

"You've always been careful with me, Roy," Mira turned her head away as she spoke. "You've always been reserved. You call my name more times than I know a man would need to. I appreciate the care you take with me, but tonight you were completely uninhibited. You…" she paused, pursing her lips. "Well, no man has ever called me Edward before."

Roy paled as he squeezed Mira's hand all the tighter.

"Oh god," he pleaded, voice tight with shame and despair. "I'm so incredibly sorry."

"I know. You apologized too, in hushed pants, but until now, I didn't know if you were apologizing to me, or to Edward."

He did everything he could to keep from openly weeping. The remains of his eye burned as the ducts produced tears with nowhere to run. His head pounded, his ribs ached, his chest felt uncomfortably tight, his soul was shattered, and yet his heart continued to beat resiliently in his chest, as if it didn't know or failed to understand how its owner wished only for it to simply stop.

"The way you said his name was beautiful, Roy. After hearing the… the _longing_ and the love in your voice, I could never hold it against you."

Roy released his death grip on the woman's hand and cradled his head between his rough palms, careful not to place too much pressure on his wound. He cursed under his breath at his foolishness. He was a fool to think that sex with someone who looked like Edward would make him feel better.

Perhaps his new assignment on the Northern border would help assuage the pain. He shared no tantalizing memories with Edward Elric there. Maybe the cold Drachma winter would simply leave him numb.

Caring arms wrapped themselves are Roy's back and chest, startling him. Mira didn't say anything more. Roy had a feeling he would only bolt if she did. Instead, he let himself relax into her embrace, allowing himself this one, slight comfort.

He didn't remember much after that.

When he awoke in the morning, Mira was gone.

The grief remained.

**Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! Reviews are always greatly appreciated. I'm pretty sure I openly cried 3 or 4 times while writing this even though I was in class. A couple of people stared at me, but I just couldn't help it. Roy Mustang is my favorite character ever. For those of you who have read my other FMA fics, I'm thinking about rewriting Unrequited Love. I was in 8****th**** grade when I wrote that (soooo long ago) and it could use a makeover. Let me know what you think! Thanks again!**


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